Gwenna Michele is 5 weeks old tomorrow. Every day we wake up next to each other, and my heart resumes its happy fluttering. Parenting this child has been everything I could hope for, and more. And she's not even 5 weeks old.
I couldn't imagine this little creature getting injured or anything beyond that- my heart would simply stop. That's one of the reasons I am so, so grateful I chose to bed-share. I ignored the hospital literature, the nurses' warnings, the pediatricians' warnings, and the attacks from other, "more caring" mothers, and on day 2, began to sleep with my baby in my bed.
My baby sleeps on her stomach. Not only that- but on her stomach, in my bed. And not only that! On her stomach, in my bed, on me. Surely, if she doesn't die before the age of 10, she will still be in my bed at night! Or so the nay-sayers say. I say... it's the only reason she's still around today.
Home from the hospital, day 2: Gwenna is sleeping peacefully in the top level of her pack-n-play. Zack is sitting at the computer inches away. I take advantage of this and go for a bath. I hear her cry out a couple of times, but I stifle my urge to run out and undermine my partner's parenting abilities... again. Seconds later, it doesn't matter. Zack has grabbed the baby and run screaming toward me, because she's choking and he has no idea what to do. I, a career nanny, know exactly what to do- I lean her forward and firmly pat her back. Nothing's happening. I keep at it. 5 seconds, 6 seconds, 7 seconds... still not breathing. At around 11 seconds, she takes a breath, coughs a couple of times, and calmly nuzzles her face into my shoulder and falls back asleep.
Okay- nothing to do with co-sleeping there, but that was the final experience we had with back sleeping. I had somewhat of a panic attack, and became convinced that my baby needed me to breathe and would not be let out of my sight. She'd spit up, laying on her back, and choked on it. For way too long, in my opinion. What if we hadn't been there? After she'd cried out initially, she was choking silently. What if she'd been in her crib and we were feet away, sleeping soundly? Taking what I knew about co-sleeping into consideration, I opted for bed-sharing. Cultures across the world sleep with their babies in their beds, even their arms, without any notion of what SIDS might be. So let's do this.
Now for the game plan: Mama propped up to the point of being in a pseudo-reclining chair. No way to turn over, or even move, without waking up that way. Baby in the Moby wrap. Breathable cloth keeping her on my chest with 3 different supports. Nothing around her face. Fan on. And... GO!
For these first few weeks, it's been wonderful. She wakes me up to feed her by wiggling and grunting. I actually have to help her wake up when I get the cues that she's hungry! She sleeps from about 10-2:30, then eats. Then wakes up again at about 5:30, then eats. Then she will sleep until 8:30, and eat again. That's right. My not-even-5-week-old baby girl has settled into her own sleep schedule.
Okay, so here is where bed-sharing becomes more than pleasant and helpful and becomes life-saving. Last night. 4 AM. Baby girl is squirming and grunting, not even awake... but showing signs of hunger. I'm having a hard time waking up to help her wake up. This is one of those times that if she were not in my bed, she would not be getting fed, because I wouldn't be waking up. The grunting is just getting annoying enough to move me to rub her back, and see if that will encourage her to sleep for a while longer before her second night feeding. I know- not the most selfless Mama move, but I wasn't awake enough to consider. So... shoot me later, after I finish the story.
I wake up and look at her when she gets quiet. Her eyes are wide, her neck is tightening, letting go... convulsing. She's begging me to do something with her watering eyes. I lean her forward and pat her, maybe 5 seconds this time... and she's better. The silent choke strikes again. This time, she'd been laying on her side- still in the Moby, so she couldn't fall into particularly plush bedding and get swallowed up, and propped up on a pillow higher than my abdomen so I couldn't possibly roll over her- and still choked. Count me the most grateful Mama alive that I had my choke-prone baby right next to me and squirming around, and not feet away in her crib where her grunts alone wouldn't have disturbed my sleep.
The benefits of bed-sharing don't stop at just being nearby in case something happens. Sleep sharing offers more skin-to-skin contact (more bonding for baby and Mama), easier night feedings for breastfeeding moms, lower risk of SIDS (YES- contrary to what you may have been told, SAFELY and PROPERLY bed-sharing DECREASES risk of SIDS: the stimulation from your warmth, breathing, and heartbeat decrease the odds of an apnea continuing for too long and resulting in SIDS), and more peaceful sleep for baby (and mom, if you're like me).
Of course, I can't just throw caution to the wind and encourage everyone to bed-share. If you're male, for example, you have to *really* protect against the possibility of rolling over your infant. Males typically sleep harder than females. Harder sleep also occurs after you've been drinking, if you're obese, or if you're on any depressant drugs. The presence of third-hand cigarette smoke (the kind that lives in your clothes and bedding) increases the risk of SIDS, so if you're a smoker, just quit! It'll be better for everyone, duh. Having a fan on in the room helps decrease the risk of SIDS, by the way. And if you have fluffy or loose bedding, make sure it's wayyyy far away from your little one. Inhaling fabric is even worse than inhaling cigarette smoke, if you can believe it.
Most moms of newborns are so in-tune to their babies that they can trust any movement or fussiness will wake them up, and mothers will be aware of baby's presence at all times and the possibility of rolling onto the baby is very low. However, if you're a panic-head like me and want to decrease the possibility further, try my method:
-Undress baby to her diaper. The skin-to-skin contact and warmth from being covered by the wrap will be enough warmth for her. (I also recommend sleeping in just a bra.)
-Put baby in a wrap, like the Moby or Sleepy wrap. make sure the shoulder straps are firmly supporting your little one's body. You can even use one of the straps to support the back of baby's head, if you have a newborn who won't wiggle her face into the fabric. If you have a little one with head control, put her arms on top of the straps so she can't wiggle her nose into them, and make sure the back panel is firmly supportive.
-Prop yourself up to a sitting or near-sitting position with pillows. I even put a Boppy behind my head so it's near for night feedings.
-Sweet dreams!
-If you can't sleep on your back, try side-sleeping: put baby in wrap, but situate her facing you as far as you can toward the opposite side you're laying on. Place a pillow halfway beneath you and all the way beneath your baby. Place as many pillows beneath your baby as necessary for you to be comfortable and for it to be impossibly for you to roll over her. The wrap will prevent her from falling between the pillows and your body. In the side position, I sleep turned a bit upwards, kind of diagonally, toward my baby. It's like she's still sleeping on top of my- and she is, a little bit, but she's mostly supported by the pillows.
Putting babies to sleep with a pacifier and keeping a fan on also decrease the risk of SIDS...
So here's my gripe of the day. Babies die of SIDS, statistically moreso on the belly than on the back, when sleeping away from mom. Shouldn't we be wondering why? When I read about the research that shows lighter sleep in infants results in decreased likelihood of SIDS, I put 2 and 2 together:
Babies sleep better on their tummies.
+
Babies who sleep better/uninterrupted/without outside stimulation are more likely to die of SIDS in their sleep.
=
Babies who sleep on their tummies (the most natural position) should have extra (gentle) stimulation during sleep (such as a fan or the rhythm of mom's heartbeat and breathing)
Hey... maybe that's why bed-sharing cultures, those which have no plush bedding and don't go to sleep drunk and don't smoke, have like, no dead babies?!
Not that my sum in the above equation was not "Babies should sleep on their backs away from parents where they have a distinct chance of choking on spit-up and silently dying; or just forgetting to breathe due to lack of adequate stimulation (sleeping on their backs may annoyance/stimulation enough for some babies, but obviously not for others...)
In a perfect world, this would be adequately researched and releases to the general public. Instead, the people who make the "parenting rules" in Western culture choose to ignore the helpful research on co-sleeping that they already have and opt for simply increasing the rate of survival of infants. Sure, sleeping on the back is generally safer than sleeping on the tummy, due to the stimulation sleeping on the back provides. But what about sleeping on the tummy on mommy's chest, or on a vibrating surface with a pacifier and a fan going in the room? Do you think that parents of infants who have died choking on their spit-up in the middle of the night, all alone, might appreciate that information? Do you think that the parents of babies who have died of SIDS might have appreciated actually understanding the mechanisms at work with SIDS rather than being told that they MUST place their baby in a crib alone because a few drunk fathers rolled onto their babies? Because the safety guidelines for safely co-sleeping were too expensive to advertise? What happened there, America, when you decided that parents were too stupid to understand how their tiny babies' bodies worked and you opted to preach a one-size-fits-all Back to Sleep campaign, and villainized bed sharing, while all available research points to the conclusion that babies naturally sleep on their tummies, and with their mothers?
I would love to see the parents of SIDS babies take the APA to court for their Back to Sleep campaign, or their stance on bed sharing, or both. they simply neglect to educate parents on the biology of their children, and scare the shit out of them with a syndrome that they claim is a complete mystery.
I would just like to know why. And my heart goes out to every well-meaning parent whose heart aches when they put their baby down in a crib to sleep, and miss that little one all night... because that's what you should do of course!
Okay, angry rant over. Carry on...
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
My Not-So-Natural Childbirth
Here goes the birth story.
At about 6:15 in the evening on Thursday (the 8th), I was rolling my hips around, knees on the ground and chest on the birthing ball, and stood up to a little gush.
"Oh!" I stopped, looked at Zack, and ran to the bathroom. He tore after me, but not before I could lock the door.
"No!!! Don't lock the door- I wanna see!"
"I'll let you see if I see it's not just nasty stuff, hang on!"
And there were my favorite leopard-print bikini underwear, soaked with clear fluid on the ground. I opened the door and pointed at them. Looked at Zack.
"My water broke."
I called the midwife and announced it once again, so proud-like! She said that that was exciting (exciting is not the term-too mild!) and asked about my contractions... of which there were none. I'd been having bloody show since the day before, when I had my membranes stripped a second time. But no contractions. She said I could walk around, play with nipple stimulation, try to get things started- but not to take more than 4 hours in getting to the hospital.
Zack and I called our parents and went to WalMart, to walk around and for me to get him a small present for when the baby came. We got back home, I copied down the letter I'd written to him, put it in his gift basket, and we took off for the hospital. Checked in at about 10:30... and waited in the waiting room for a LDR (Labor, Delivery, & Recovery) room. Well... they waited, and I walked the halls. Still no contractions
.
Oh, by the way? Zack's aunt and cousin from Mississippi drove in to hang out in the waiting room. Also present at check-in were his mother, father, my mother, Gwenna's godmother, and her godfather. Support system, go.
An hour or so later, we got our room. I declined wearing the hospital gown and put on my bathing suit- a dress-like one-piece with the bottoms cut out (but everything covered up). This first nurse was wonderful. We went over my birth plan. IV hep lock instead of the pole, birthing tub to be set up by Zack when I approached 5 cm, intermittent monitoring instead of continuously being hooked up to the monitor, no use of the word "pain' while I was in hypnosis,quiet and dim room during labor and delivery. I had a natural birth planned. I'd taken any steps I could to reduce my risk of induction, c-section, and needing epidural anesthesia (birthing tub rental and hypno-birthing tracks). She was fantastic and supportive and so helpful.
After another hour of walking around, rolling around and bouncing on the birth ball, more gushes of amniotic fluid... nothing. Not a single contraction on my little monitor strip.
The midwife came in and talked to me about cervadil (to help me dilate- the previous day I was at 2 cm, and needed to be at 10 before attempting delivery) and pitocin (to start the contractions). I had spent weeks obsessing about how much I did NOT want any interventions like that. Especially pitocin- the drug is called "hell-in-a-bag" by experienced users and is reputed to be terribly uncomfortable for the baby; not to mention, this drug routinely starts off the chain of interventions that goes something like
pitocin > greater need for pain relief and rest> epidural anesthesia> greater chance of stalled labor and/or impaired delivery due to numbness> greater chance of c-section surgery
Still, I knew this was necessary because the rule of thumb is that a woman in labor should not be still pregnant 24 hours after the water breaks, because the longer the membranes have been ruptured, the more at-risk she is for serious infection, along with her baby. Taking that into account and the fact that first-time moms' labors are usually pretty long, she wanted to get started on the process right away. I wasn't bitter or terribly upset or even discouraged about how well I'd be able to handle the pain, because I knew my midwife was doing everything she could to give me the birth I wanted while looking out for the baby's and my health.
At about midnight she inserted the cervadil, and the plan was to come back at 6 AM to start the pitocin. She said if I got really uncomfortable to call her back to the hospital, because she was going to go home and try to rest. I wondered how I would know if I really needed her there, and she said, "You'll know! If you wish I was here, that's when you call."
So I kept moving around on the birth ball, and not long after the cervadil was in, I ran the visitors out of my LDR and tried to eat (Pinkberry- this amazing, light sort of frozen yogurt. My favorite!). That was a no-go. About 1 AM,the contractions picked up... and they were much different from how I expected labor to start. From 1-3 minutes apart, an automatic 7 on the pain scale. I thought that early labor would be much different... I was told that everything was supposed to progress from spaced out and short and tolerable to longer, stronger, and closer together. Soon the contractions were coming one on top of the other. Any movement I made triggered a contraction. Laying on my back, standing up, sitting down, all triggered continuous, painful contractions. I got the chance to get in the shower, and I have to say that it was helpful at that early point, and it made me feel hopeful that this labor, which was supposed to increase in pain quite a bit before it was over, cold be managed by using hydrotherapy.
At some point I got really pissed off at Zack because he noticed the ipod was dead and made no move to tell me or to send someone for the charger at our house, and my hypnobabies stuff was on there. My mom ended up going to get the charger and we tried to put on hypnobabies... but it was too late. I couldn't relax enough to put myself under; I was shaking, and vocalizing to the point of purely screaming through the harder contractions. The pains now came one on top of the other. Even though the pain was now a 9 on the pain scale, and breathing through contractions was no longer working, as soon as one contractions was over, my mind was instantly relaxed and I was ready for another one. Never once during this time did I think, "I am not going to make it without some sort of relief." I just kept taking them one at a time, and I really felt good about getting closer and closer to the delivery. I even slept between contractions, seconds at a time, and sometimes a couple of minutes... they'd given me benadryl with the cervadil so I could sleep before the pains became too intense... hah. I hadn't gotten more than 6 hours of sleep in a day for several days, and I did of course need my rest, but the benadryl was not a good idea. My mom said at one point I was on my way back from the bathroom (with help) and I fell asleep.
We'd called the midwife, maybe about 3 AM. When she got there she said we'd take the cervadil out (as it was hurting more than helping- my "contractions" were irregular, needlessly painful, and not helping dilation much) and we'd start the pitocin early. Again, I wasn't entirely worried. I'd sat through my sister's labor, and she'd been on pitocin. I knew it was very painful, but I also knew it couldn't be worse than what I was going through. Zack, ever-helpful and caring, asked the midwife if I could rest before they put me on pitocin, after they took out the cervadil. She said that we could wait about an hour, so I laid in bed with Zack, and he fell asleep. He asked if I would be angry if he napped and I said of course not- so he laid in the recliner next to the bed while I continued to take the pains one at a time. At some point, I was angry, because I'd had to vocalize through several contractions and he was sleeping soundly. I yelled at him a few times... still nothing. Threw a pillow at him. Nothing. A few minutes later, he came to, and I told him that I was not going through this alone- if he wanted to sleep now he better go get my mom! So not typical of the both of us- him sleeping while I labored, and me yelling at him (and throwing things?!)... but this was labor, some sort of twilight zone.
At about 4 AM, they hung the pitocin, and neither of us realized what was going on. Me, because I was working through pains, and Zack, because he was still not really awake. After the pitocin was hooked up, I needed to remain in bed to be monitored in case the baby reacted negatively. At some point, Zack asked the midwife if my labor was progressing alright now that it had been going for a while (which was our hope from the beginning- that if I did indeed need the pitocin, my body would pick up labor on its own, and I would be able to get off of it), and she said no... and no one had to tell me this. The contractions were becoming more rhythmic, building up, peaking, letting go... but they were still too close together and shorter than they needed to be. Throughout the hard labor in which I was not drugged, my contractions were 0-3 minutes apart. All 11 hours of it...
I had very few cervical checks, and the only one I remember before 5 cm was when I was 4 cm- and being 1 cm away from the goal I had to meet to use my birthing tub, I asked if we could start setting it up. Then the midwife told me about the underwater monitoring device being misplaced, and me not being able to use the tub while on pitocin because of that. She said we should wait until 6 or 7 cm and see if my body picked up labor enough to stop the pitocin. The contractions were still horrible (and me, I didn't complain about a kidney stone I had until I couldn't breathe and was urinating bright red blood- even then I was walking and talking- and my eardrum ruptured twice, I had a staph infection that nearly warranted amputation... I know pain!) but we were close. 1 or 2 cm more and I'd have relief. I was still tired beyond belief and still falling asleep between waves. But we were close.
The shifts changed at about 7 and I got a new nurse. Before I was properly introduced to her, she came in to check on me and was really alarmed at the amount of pain I was in. She tried to move me and I tried to explain that any movement triggered pains and this had been the best position so far, on my side.
The midwife then came in and introduced her to me. She said that she assigned herself to cases where the mother was going for a natural delivery. I instantly fell in love with her, felt more at ease and even a little proud, because my efforts so far had earned me special attention from someone who had been there and wanted to be supportive. Esther caught me in a contraction and immediately after, moved me next to the bed on the birthing ball and coached me through some hard breaths and rocking on the ball. I no longer had to vocalize through the contractions. They felt exactly like what I thought they'd be- rhythmic, hard, manageable. The nurse said I may have been in a position that was compressing nerves or putting too much pressure on my uterus or cervix, causing extra irritation, while I was laying down. I looked at Zack and said, "I can do this!" Not that I'd doubted myself before- but suddenly, dealing with the pain that was sure to increase had a much better outlook.
From around 8 AM to 11 AM, I breathed through contractions and rocked through them. They got stronger and longer. I was getting so very, very tired. I'd been in painful labor for 10 hours. I'd had no rest to speak of in well over 24 hours, and I was looking forward to the end. After a particularly painful contraction, the midwife came in and explained to me that I actually wasn't eligible for a water birth, because a contraindication was premature rupture of membranes- water breaking before labor starts.
I was defeated.
I looked at Zack and told him I couldn't do it. I needed the epidural. I needed rest. I sobbed through whatever happened after that, which I don't remember, and the next thing I do remember was Zack coming back into the room from somewhere else, crying. I asked him why he was upset- I thought it might be because I'd given up. But he said that he was so proud of me, working through the pain for so long and accepting every feared intervention as it came, and that he was sorry that it didn't work out the way it should have. He wished it had been easier, and this wasn't fair. That made me feel infinitely better, and also very touched. I was looking at myself as a failure, and found out after the delivery that Zack wasn't the only one who now held deep respect for me for everything we'd worked through that day. The nurse even told me her story- her first birth came with an epidural. She said it was noting to be ashamed of, and I should be proud of how far I took it.
I labored along for about another hour while I received IV fluids in preparation for the epidural. The anesthesiologist came to my rescue at noon. The epidural placement went perfectly, and one of my trophy moments from the labor and delivery process was how still I kept myself through a contraction while the tube was being placed in my spine. I had no pain from the local anesthetic, and no bothers from the epidural placement. The catheter was placed after and I didn't feel a thing. Almost instantly, I had a fantastic numbness in my legs and my pelvis and across my back and stomach. This relief was blissful.
The midwife did a cervical check after the placement of the epidural, per my request, since I knew the check would trigger an extra contraction and I'd rather have that happen when I wasn't feeling them. Five centimeters.
Five centimeters.
Had my membranes not ruptured before labor began, had the waterproof equipment not been misplaced, had I not been on pitocin, I would have made it to my goal. Even with the added pain of that wacky cervadil response, my water being broken (this increases the pain of contractions, since there is no longer much lubrication between the body inside and the uterus contracting around it), and the pitocin, I would have made it. And that brings me just a little bit of peace.
So here we were, 18 hours after my water had broken, and I'd progressed 3 centimeters. I had 5 to go in 6 hours.
After the epidural, I napped for at least an hour. Zack napped almost 3 hours. He woke up when I got my dad, who'd showed up with my stepmother, to wake him up. I didn't want to wake him, but I was shaking pretty badly and I felt that my center of tension was in my shoulders, and I needed him to help me relax so it didn't get too bad. Shaking is a common side effect of the epidural, so I didn't worry. Not too long after, the nurse came to take my temperature. I had a fever.
Remember how I mentioned the time allowance of 24 hours after membranes rupture before a c-section was indicated? Well... that's because of risk of serious infection, if you'll remember. Here I was, probably 3 hours away from my deadline, with a fever. I believe that the only reason I didn't get prepped for c-section at that point in time is simply that my midwife is an angel, and did everything she could to help me birth naturally and avoid major surgery. Antibiotics were hung on the IV pole and I tried my best to relax.
This cervical check showed me at a "stretchy 7". The nurse could stretch the cervix to 9 cm, but it sprung back, so we called it that. At 5 o'clock, I was fully dilated.
Funny thing about epidurals: they can sometimes facilitate labor. A big fear with epidurals is that they stall labor, and this is often the case. However, when the mind and body are in such a state as to be so tense and stressed that the body is working against its own labor, any relaxation helps. I had taken weeks to dilate to 2 cm, 12 hours to dilate an extra 3 cm, and 5 hours to dilate the last 5 cm. No one can say for sure whether the epidural helped save the day; some labors simply progress more quickly after 5 cm. Even if the epidural had nothing to do with my cervix's race across the finish line, there is no denying that the rest it allowed me helped me through what was coming next.
I wasn't feeling the pressure to push, so the midwife and I decided I could labor down a bit longer, maybe an hour, before trying to push. I still had a fever, but I was allowed to rest and wait.
The shift changed a bit early and I got my original nurse back before I had to start pushing. Hah- 3 shifts of nurses helped me through my labor and delivery. We found out that I wasn't contracting at all anymore. No wonder I didn't feel pressure. The epidural was turned off.
At 6 o'clock, I started to push. We had to get the baby out. After I began to push, the fever broke, and contractions, little as they were, resumed. They continued to be so subtle that I could never tell when one was happening, and nearer to the end I frequently frustrated my poor midwife because I pushed in between contractions, not knowing that was what I was doing- I was just pushing at guessed times along with the constant pressure.
And let me explain the pressure. Something was stuck in my body. I was panicking. I felt that every push I made was ineffective, and I needed something to change. At some point I asked Zack to leave for a little bit (to spare him some of the more gory details of pushing) and to return when it was time to deliver. My mom came back in his place, after his graceful exit. I can't explain what all his support and understanding did for me through this experience, and I'm sure I'm more in love with him now than I ever thought I could be.
At this point, this was all I knew: there was no baby, there was no progress. Just something stuck and an irrepressible urge to move from the position that had me on my back with my knees to my ears, to all fours. Several times, my midwife explained to me patiently that it was dangerous for me to move to that position, because my legs and knees were not dependable after the epidural. I was no longer myself- I'd returned to the Twilight Zone- Delivery Edition. I pleaded to just try and get on my knees. She said okay, we'll try it. She, the nurse, and my mom all draped the tubes and cords hooked up to me around my body in the appropriate places for me to turn. I made my way to my knees, grabbed the top of the inclined hospital bed, and resumed pushing. Quite a bit of the pressure was relieved, and I felt progress- but I was still not completely present, and suddenly in more pain- the baby was coming down. The midwife asked if she should go get Zack and my first reflex was to say no. I actually did say no. Then it sunk in, what I'd just said, and corrected myself. "Yes! Yes I want him here." I was upset with myself for actually allowing the possibility of him not being there for the birth of his daughter- this moment we'd planned so extensively for.
Zack arrived shortly and held my hand. While I screamed and strained a-la Exorcist, he was standing by my side, letting me know how great I was doing, saying that she had such pretty hair, they could see her coming, we were so close...
I was terribly pissed off at my nurse for no reason, at that point. The midwife warned me that the nurse was going to take the catheter out. After that, I felt this incredibly awful sensation in that area, and I thought she might not have done that yet. Then I realized... this was the breaking point for my skin. This was that "ring of fire" as the baby crowned. Several more pushes, and there was the head. Then one more push, and she slipped out. My water gushed, and gushed, just like you wouldn't believe, after 24 hours of it leaking and gushing out of my body. Zack caught the baby.
"You did so good. She's so pretty. You did so good!" I looked at him and there were tears in his eyes.
There was no endorphin rush. There was no urgent pull to look at my baby. I looked down on the bed and saw the dreaded meconium-stained fluid covering the sheets. No baby yet.
Zack held her under me and I saw her beautiful face for the first time. She was very pretty. Gwenna Michele was born at 7:37 PM, September 9, 2010,7 lbs. 14 oz., and nearly 21 inches long- after 18 hours of labor and over an hour and a half of pushing.
It was in my birth plan to delay assessments and immediately nurse her, and bond before any tests were done, and for all the tests to be done in the room rather than the nursery. I knew the chance of all that flew out the window with the meconium. The midwife was once again very patient with me and made sure I knew what was going on in my disoriented state. She delivered the placenta and I begged for a shower. I also got some pain medication for the cramping and what would soon become swelling/bruising. There were no tears... but it still hurts.
Little girl stayed in the nursery while I was moved to my postpartum room, and I missed her until 11:30 that night, when I finally got to hold and nurse the little doll (nothing was wrong with her). She latched on right away, and breastfeeding has been very successful. She's going through a growth spurt right now, which I really appreciate, since it's helping me get my figure back. She's in disposable diapers until the umbilical stump falls off, and I'll be more comfortable diapering her with our prefolds and covers that right now, rub up against her healing belly button. I sleep with her in our Moby wrap, and she loves it, and sleeps all night with the exception of waking up to nurse (and then falling right back asleep). During the day, if I want to get on the computer, I 'll wrap her up then as well. She is spoiling me to death with cuddles. She's been picking up her head quite a bit, and has more wakeful time during the day where she makes funny faces at me and I get to sing to her and read to her. She's a pretty happy baby... and of course, I think that she couldn't be more perfect.
Obviously, the story had a happy ending. But I think it was a happy beginning and middle as well. Even though it would have broken my heart to know ahead of time how things unfolded, I am so grateful that I had my midwife and those wonderful nurses and my gigantic support system to see me through and help me understand that I shouldn't be ashamed. I did good. We all did good.
And hey, there's always next time.
At about 6:15 in the evening on Thursday (the 8th), I was rolling my hips around, knees on the ground and chest on the birthing ball, and stood up to a little gush.
"Oh!" I stopped, looked at Zack, and ran to the bathroom. He tore after me, but not before I could lock the door.
"No!!! Don't lock the door- I wanna see!"
"I'll let you see if I see it's not just nasty stuff, hang on!"
And there were my favorite leopard-print bikini underwear, soaked with clear fluid on the ground. I opened the door and pointed at them. Looked at Zack.
"My water broke."
I called the midwife and announced it once again, so proud-like! She said that that was exciting (exciting is not the term-too mild!) and asked about my contractions... of which there were none. I'd been having bloody show since the day before, when I had my membranes stripped a second time. But no contractions. She said I could walk around, play with nipple stimulation, try to get things started- but not to take more than 4 hours in getting to the hospital.
Zack and I called our parents and went to WalMart, to walk around and for me to get him a small present for when the baby came. We got back home, I copied down the letter I'd written to him, put it in his gift basket, and we took off for the hospital. Checked in at about 10:30... and waited in the waiting room for a LDR (Labor, Delivery, & Recovery) room. Well... they waited, and I walked the halls. Still no contractions
.
Oh, by the way? Zack's aunt and cousin from Mississippi drove in to hang out in the waiting room. Also present at check-in were his mother, father, my mother, Gwenna's godmother, and her godfather. Support system, go.
An hour or so later, we got our room. I declined wearing the hospital gown and put on my bathing suit- a dress-like one-piece with the bottoms cut out (but everything covered up). This first nurse was wonderful. We went over my birth plan. IV hep lock instead of the pole, birthing tub to be set up by Zack when I approached 5 cm, intermittent monitoring instead of continuously being hooked up to the monitor, no use of the word "pain' while I was in hypnosis,quiet and dim room during labor and delivery. I had a natural birth planned. I'd taken any steps I could to reduce my risk of induction, c-section, and needing epidural anesthesia (birthing tub rental and hypno-birthing tracks). She was fantastic and supportive and so helpful.
After another hour of walking around, rolling around and bouncing on the birth ball, more gushes of amniotic fluid... nothing. Not a single contraction on my little monitor strip.
The midwife came in and talked to me about cervadil (to help me dilate- the previous day I was at 2 cm, and needed to be at 10 before attempting delivery) and pitocin (to start the contractions). I had spent weeks obsessing about how much I did NOT want any interventions like that. Especially pitocin- the drug is called "hell-in-a-bag" by experienced users and is reputed to be terribly uncomfortable for the baby; not to mention, this drug routinely starts off the chain of interventions that goes something like
pitocin > greater need for pain relief and rest> epidural anesthesia> greater chance of stalled labor and/or impaired delivery due to numbness> greater chance of c-section surgery
Still, I knew this was necessary because the rule of thumb is that a woman in labor should not be still pregnant 24 hours after the water breaks, because the longer the membranes have been ruptured, the more at-risk she is for serious infection, along with her baby. Taking that into account and the fact that first-time moms' labors are usually pretty long, she wanted to get started on the process right away. I wasn't bitter or terribly upset or even discouraged about how well I'd be able to handle the pain, because I knew my midwife was doing everything she could to give me the birth I wanted while looking out for the baby's and my health.
At about midnight she inserted the cervadil, and the plan was to come back at 6 AM to start the pitocin. She said if I got really uncomfortable to call her back to the hospital, because she was going to go home and try to rest. I wondered how I would know if I really needed her there, and she said, "You'll know! If you wish I was here, that's when you call."
So I kept moving around on the birth ball, and not long after the cervadil was in, I ran the visitors out of my LDR and tried to eat (Pinkberry- this amazing, light sort of frozen yogurt. My favorite!). That was a no-go. About 1 AM,the contractions picked up... and they were much different from how I expected labor to start. From 1-3 minutes apart, an automatic 7 on the pain scale. I thought that early labor would be much different... I was told that everything was supposed to progress from spaced out and short and tolerable to longer, stronger, and closer together. Soon the contractions were coming one on top of the other. Any movement I made triggered a contraction. Laying on my back, standing up, sitting down, all triggered continuous, painful contractions. I got the chance to get in the shower, and I have to say that it was helpful at that early point, and it made me feel hopeful that this labor, which was supposed to increase in pain quite a bit before it was over, cold be managed by using hydrotherapy.
At some point I got really pissed off at Zack because he noticed the ipod was dead and made no move to tell me or to send someone for the charger at our house, and my hypnobabies stuff was on there. My mom ended up going to get the charger and we tried to put on hypnobabies... but it was too late. I couldn't relax enough to put myself under; I was shaking, and vocalizing to the point of purely screaming through the harder contractions. The pains now came one on top of the other. Even though the pain was now a 9 on the pain scale, and breathing through contractions was no longer working, as soon as one contractions was over, my mind was instantly relaxed and I was ready for another one. Never once during this time did I think, "I am not going to make it without some sort of relief." I just kept taking them one at a time, and I really felt good about getting closer and closer to the delivery. I even slept between contractions, seconds at a time, and sometimes a couple of minutes... they'd given me benadryl with the cervadil so I could sleep before the pains became too intense... hah. I hadn't gotten more than 6 hours of sleep in a day for several days, and I did of course need my rest, but the benadryl was not a good idea. My mom said at one point I was on my way back from the bathroom (with help) and I fell asleep.
We'd called the midwife, maybe about 3 AM. When she got there she said we'd take the cervadil out (as it was hurting more than helping- my "contractions" were irregular, needlessly painful, and not helping dilation much) and we'd start the pitocin early. Again, I wasn't entirely worried. I'd sat through my sister's labor, and she'd been on pitocin. I knew it was very painful, but I also knew it couldn't be worse than what I was going through. Zack, ever-helpful and caring, asked the midwife if I could rest before they put me on pitocin, after they took out the cervadil. She said that we could wait about an hour, so I laid in bed with Zack, and he fell asleep. He asked if I would be angry if he napped and I said of course not- so he laid in the recliner next to the bed while I continued to take the pains one at a time. At some point, I was angry, because I'd had to vocalize through several contractions and he was sleeping soundly. I yelled at him a few times... still nothing. Threw a pillow at him. Nothing. A few minutes later, he came to, and I told him that I was not going through this alone- if he wanted to sleep now he better go get my mom! So not typical of the both of us- him sleeping while I labored, and me yelling at him (and throwing things?!)... but this was labor, some sort of twilight zone.
At about 4 AM, they hung the pitocin, and neither of us realized what was going on. Me, because I was working through pains, and Zack, because he was still not really awake. After the pitocin was hooked up, I needed to remain in bed to be monitored in case the baby reacted negatively. At some point, Zack asked the midwife if my labor was progressing alright now that it had been going for a while (which was our hope from the beginning- that if I did indeed need the pitocin, my body would pick up labor on its own, and I would be able to get off of it), and she said no... and no one had to tell me this. The contractions were becoming more rhythmic, building up, peaking, letting go... but they were still too close together and shorter than they needed to be. Throughout the hard labor in which I was not drugged, my contractions were 0-3 minutes apart. All 11 hours of it...
I had very few cervical checks, and the only one I remember before 5 cm was when I was 4 cm- and being 1 cm away from the goal I had to meet to use my birthing tub, I asked if we could start setting it up. Then the midwife told me about the underwater monitoring device being misplaced, and me not being able to use the tub while on pitocin because of that. She said we should wait until 6 or 7 cm and see if my body picked up labor enough to stop the pitocin. The contractions were still horrible (and me, I didn't complain about a kidney stone I had until I couldn't breathe and was urinating bright red blood- even then I was walking and talking- and my eardrum ruptured twice, I had a staph infection that nearly warranted amputation... I know pain!) but we were close. 1 or 2 cm more and I'd have relief. I was still tired beyond belief and still falling asleep between waves. But we were close.
The shifts changed at about 7 and I got a new nurse. Before I was properly introduced to her, she came in to check on me and was really alarmed at the amount of pain I was in. She tried to move me and I tried to explain that any movement triggered pains and this had been the best position so far, on my side.
The midwife then came in and introduced her to me. She said that she assigned herself to cases where the mother was going for a natural delivery. I instantly fell in love with her, felt more at ease and even a little proud, because my efforts so far had earned me special attention from someone who had been there and wanted to be supportive. Esther caught me in a contraction and immediately after, moved me next to the bed on the birthing ball and coached me through some hard breaths and rocking on the ball. I no longer had to vocalize through the contractions. They felt exactly like what I thought they'd be- rhythmic, hard, manageable. The nurse said I may have been in a position that was compressing nerves or putting too much pressure on my uterus or cervix, causing extra irritation, while I was laying down. I looked at Zack and said, "I can do this!" Not that I'd doubted myself before- but suddenly, dealing with the pain that was sure to increase had a much better outlook.
From around 8 AM to 11 AM, I breathed through contractions and rocked through them. They got stronger and longer. I was getting so very, very tired. I'd been in painful labor for 10 hours. I'd had no rest to speak of in well over 24 hours, and I was looking forward to the end. After a particularly painful contraction, the midwife came in and explained to me that I actually wasn't eligible for a water birth, because a contraindication was premature rupture of membranes- water breaking before labor starts.
I was defeated.
I looked at Zack and told him I couldn't do it. I needed the epidural. I needed rest. I sobbed through whatever happened after that, which I don't remember, and the next thing I do remember was Zack coming back into the room from somewhere else, crying. I asked him why he was upset- I thought it might be because I'd given up. But he said that he was so proud of me, working through the pain for so long and accepting every feared intervention as it came, and that he was sorry that it didn't work out the way it should have. He wished it had been easier, and this wasn't fair. That made me feel infinitely better, and also very touched. I was looking at myself as a failure, and found out after the delivery that Zack wasn't the only one who now held deep respect for me for everything we'd worked through that day. The nurse even told me her story- her first birth came with an epidural. She said it was noting to be ashamed of, and I should be proud of how far I took it.
I labored along for about another hour while I received IV fluids in preparation for the epidural. The anesthesiologist came to my rescue at noon. The epidural placement went perfectly, and one of my trophy moments from the labor and delivery process was how still I kept myself through a contraction while the tube was being placed in my spine. I had no pain from the local anesthetic, and no bothers from the epidural placement. The catheter was placed after and I didn't feel a thing. Almost instantly, I had a fantastic numbness in my legs and my pelvis and across my back and stomach. This relief was blissful.
The midwife did a cervical check after the placement of the epidural, per my request, since I knew the check would trigger an extra contraction and I'd rather have that happen when I wasn't feeling them. Five centimeters.
Five centimeters.
Had my membranes not ruptured before labor began, had the waterproof equipment not been misplaced, had I not been on pitocin, I would have made it to my goal. Even with the added pain of that wacky cervadil response, my water being broken (this increases the pain of contractions, since there is no longer much lubrication between the body inside and the uterus contracting around it), and the pitocin, I would have made it. And that brings me just a little bit of peace.
So here we were, 18 hours after my water had broken, and I'd progressed 3 centimeters. I had 5 to go in 6 hours.
After the epidural, I napped for at least an hour. Zack napped almost 3 hours. He woke up when I got my dad, who'd showed up with my stepmother, to wake him up. I didn't want to wake him, but I was shaking pretty badly and I felt that my center of tension was in my shoulders, and I needed him to help me relax so it didn't get too bad. Shaking is a common side effect of the epidural, so I didn't worry. Not too long after, the nurse came to take my temperature. I had a fever.
Remember how I mentioned the time allowance of 24 hours after membranes rupture before a c-section was indicated? Well... that's because of risk of serious infection, if you'll remember. Here I was, probably 3 hours away from my deadline, with a fever. I believe that the only reason I didn't get prepped for c-section at that point in time is simply that my midwife is an angel, and did everything she could to help me birth naturally and avoid major surgery. Antibiotics were hung on the IV pole and I tried my best to relax.
This cervical check showed me at a "stretchy 7". The nurse could stretch the cervix to 9 cm, but it sprung back, so we called it that. At 5 o'clock, I was fully dilated.
Funny thing about epidurals: they can sometimes facilitate labor. A big fear with epidurals is that they stall labor, and this is often the case. However, when the mind and body are in such a state as to be so tense and stressed that the body is working against its own labor, any relaxation helps. I had taken weeks to dilate to 2 cm, 12 hours to dilate an extra 3 cm, and 5 hours to dilate the last 5 cm. No one can say for sure whether the epidural helped save the day; some labors simply progress more quickly after 5 cm. Even if the epidural had nothing to do with my cervix's race across the finish line, there is no denying that the rest it allowed me helped me through what was coming next.
I wasn't feeling the pressure to push, so the midwife and I decided I could labor down a bit longer, maybe an hour, before trying to push. I still had a fever, but I was allowed to rest and wait.
The shift changed a bit early and I got my original nurse back before I had to start pushing. Hah- 3 shifts of nurses helped me through my labor and delivery. We found out that I wasn't contracting at all anymore. No wonder I didn't feel pressure. The epidural was turned off.
At 6 o'clock, I started to push. We had to get the baby out. After I began to push, the fever broke, and contractions, little as they were, resumed. They continued to be so subtle that I could never tell when one was happening, and nearer to the end I frequently frustrated my poor midwife because I pushed in between contractions, not knowing that was what I was doing- I was just pushing at guessed times along with the constant pressure.
And let me explain the pressure. Something was stuck in my body. I was panicking. I felt that every push I made was ineffective, and I needed something to change. At some point I asked Zack to leave for a little bit (to spare him some of the more gory details of pushing) and to return when it was time to deliver. My mom came back in his place, after his graceful exit. I can't explain what all his support and understanding did for me through this experience, and I'm sure I'm more in love with him now than I ever thought I could be.
At this point, this was all I knew: there was no baby, there was no progress. Just something stuck and an irrepressible urge to move from the position that had me on my back with my knees to my ears, to all fours. Several times, my midwife explained to me patiently that it was dangerous for me to move to that position, because my legs and knees were not dependable after the epidural. I was no longer myself- I'd returned to the Twilight Zone- Delivery Edition. I pleaded to just try and get on my knees. She said okay, we'll try it. She, the nurse, and my mom all draped the tubes and cords hooked up to me around my body in the appropriate places for me to turn. I made my way to my knees, grabbed the top of the inclined hospital bed, and resumed pushing. Quite a bit of the pressure was relieved, and I felt progress- but I was still not completely present, and suddenly in more pain- the baby was coming down. The midwife asked if she should go get Zack and my first reflex was to say no. I actually did say no. Then it sunk in, what I'd just said, and corrected myself. "Yes! Yes I want him here." I was upset with myself for actually allowing the possibility of him not being there for the birth of his daughter- this moment we'd planned so extensively for.
Zack arrived shortly and held my hand. While I screamed and strained a-la Exorcist, he was standing by my side, letting me know how great I was doing, saying that she had such pretty hair, they could see her coming, we were so close...
I was terribly pissed off at my nurse for no reason, at that point. The midwife warned me that the nurse was going to take the catheter out. After that, I felt this incredibly awful sensation in that area, and I thought she might not have done that yet. Then I realized... this was the breaking point for my skin. This was that "ring of fire" as the baby crowned. Several more pushes, and there was the head. Then one more push, and she slipped out. My water gushed, and gushed, just like you wouldn't believe, after 24 hours of it leaking and gushing out of my body. Zack caught the baby.
"You did so good. She's so pretty. You did so good!" I looked at him and there were tears in his eyes.
There was no endorphin rush. There was no urgent pull to look at my baby. I looked down on the bed and saw the dreaded meconium-stained fluid covering the sheets. No baby yet.
Zack held her under me and I saw her beautiful face for the first time. She was very pretty. Gwenna Michele was born at 7:37 PM, September 9, 2010,7 lbs. 14 oz., and nearly 21 inches long- after 18 hours of labor and over an hour and a half of pushing.
It was in my birth plan to delay assessments and immediately nurse her, and bond before any tests were done, and for all the tests to be done in the room rather than the nursery. I knew the chance of all that flew out the window with the meconium. The midwife was once again very patient with me and made sure I knew what was going on in my disoriented state. She delivered the placenta and I begged for a shower. I also got some pain medication for the cramping and what would soon become swelling/bruising. There were no tears... but it still hurts.
Little girl stayed in the nursery while I was moved to my postpartum room, and I missed her until 11:30 that night, when I finally got to hold and nurse the little doll (nothing was wrong with her). She latched on right away, and breastfeeding has been very successful. She's going through a growth spurt right now, which I really appreciate, since it's helping me get my figure back. She's in disposable diapers until the umbilical stump falls off, and I'll be more comfortable diapering her with our prefolds and covers that right now, rub up against her healing belly button. I sleep with her in our Moby wrap, and she loves it, and sleeps all night with the exception of waking up to nurse (and then falling right back asleep). During the day, if I want to get on the computer, I 'll wrap her up then as well. She is spoiling me to death with cuddles. She's been picking up her head quite a bit, and has more wakeful time during the day where she makes funny faces at me and I get to sing to her and read to her. She's a pretty happy baby... and of course, I think that she couldn't be more perfect.
Obviously, the story had a happy ending. But I think it was a happy beginning and middle as well. Even though it would have broken my heart to know ahead of time how things unfolded, I am so grateful that I had my midwife and those wonderful nurses and my gigantic support system to see me through and help me understand that I shouldn't be ashamed. I did good. We all did good.
And hey, there's always next time.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Full-term!
Welp. Today I am 37 weeks according to my last EDD, and Babycenter.com says "Welcome to the waiting game!" Ummmm...
I'm ready. No, seriously- I want this baby out! At this point, who wouldn't? Even though I might be terrified that birth won't go as planned and I'll end up with an intervention, or I will fail at breastfeeding, or I'll get severe postpartum depression. The chances of one or all of these things happening are greater, statistically, because I am delivering in a hospital.
I've gotten a good deal of flack about this. I'm the Granola Nanny, they say! I own a company geared toward all things natural, they say! How could I be such a traitor?!
In my defense, I've never considered myself Queen of the Hippies. I *love* learning about and employing ways to keep children living natural, healthy lives. I love homeopathy and holistic approaches to health. I love the nurturing, basic ways of caring for children that Attachment Parenting and Positive Discipline offer. I love having a small impact on the environment, and using soap and household cleaners that don't have the ridiculous amount of chemicals in them that commercial products have.
But I'm not unrealistic. I don't live in a cabin in the woods. I don't turn down food at someone's house or while I'm out if it's not organic. I even ate produce in my first trimester that wasn't organic! GASP- I know! Ideally, I would have liked to have organic and healthy foods, but I had to eat whatever seemed like it might stay down, and if there was an apple around that didn't make me want to vomit by looking at it, it was in ma belleh (and back up shortly after- so who knows how many chemicals I actually absorbed?). I could go on with examples for days, but the point is, I'm not perfect.
My decision to give birth in a hospital setting was made while considering several factors. I want to state upfront and be very clear, however, that I would prefer a homebirth, and I'm an advocate of homebirths. They are statistically the safest labor and delivery experiences, and promote bonding on a surreal level. That out of the way, I don't feel it was the best option for my family at this place and time in our lives. For one, we live in New Orleans, where there is no such thing as a free-standing birthing center, and there is a single midwifery practice. I'd feel more comfortable if I had a lay midwife whom I could be certain had as much experience as the OB/GYNs around here, but how could that happen, when this area is so geared toward hospital birth and OB/GYN care? I'd also like to have a choice between several midwives whose experience level I felt comfortable with. Since that didn't even happen with the choice for a hospital birth, that's not happening with a possible home birth. Also, I am definitely not prepared nor do I feel I would have had the time and energy to prepare myself to have an unassisted childbirth. Maybe next time. Besides, my insurance doesn't even cover homebirths, and yes, this is a big factor in my decision to give birth at a hospital. And last but not least, the boyfriend isn't comfortable with a homebirth. He has been extremely supportive throughout this pregnancy, and I feel like I owe him the comfort of having medical professionals around while I may be writhing in agony while he is helpless to do anything about it.
Hopefully, the scenario won't play out quite like that. While I don't feel qualified to plan for an unassisted homebirth at this point, I *have* done my homework.
I'm ready. No, seriously- I want this baby out! At this point, who wouldn't? Even though I might be terrified that birth won't go as planned and I'll end up with an intervention, or I will fail at breastfeeding, or I'll get severe postpartum depression. The chances of one or all of these things happening are greater, statistically, because I am delivering in a hospital.
I've gotten a good deal of flack about this. I'm the Granola Nanny, they say! I own a company geared toward all things natural, they say! How could I be such a traitor?!
In my defense, I've never considered myself Queen of the Hippies. I *love* learning about and employing ways to keep children living natural, healthy lives. I love homeopathy and holistic approaches to health. I love the nurturing, basic ways of caring for children that Attachment Parenting and Positive Discipline offer. I love having a small impact on the environment, and using soap and household cleaners that don't have the ridiculous amount of chemicals in them that commercial products have.
But I'm not unrealistic. I don't live in a cabin in the woods. I don't turn down food at someone's house or while I'm out if it's not organic. I even ate produce in my first trimester that wasn't organic! GASP- I know! Ideally, I would have liked to have organic and healthy foods, but I had to eat whatever seemed like it might stay down, and if there was an apple around that didn't make me want to vomit by looking at it, it was in ma belleh (and back up shortly after- so who knows how many chemicals I actually absorbed?). I could go on with examples for days, but the point is, I'm not perfect.
My decision to give birth in a hospital setting was made while considering several factors. I want to state upfront and be very clear, however, that I would prefer a homebirth, and I'm an advocate of homebirths. They are statistically the safest labor and delivery experiences, and promote bonding on a surreal level. That out of the way, I don't feel it was the best option for my family at this place and time in our lives. For one, we live in New Orleans, where there is no such thing as a free-standing birthing center, and there is a single midwifery practice. I'd feel more comfortable if I had a lay midwife whom I could be certain had as much experience as the OB/GYNs around here, but how could that happen, when this area is so geared toward hospital birth and OB/GYN care? I'd also like to have a choice between several midwives whose experience level I felt comfortable with. Since that didn't even happen with the choice for a hospital birth, that's not happening with a possible home birth. Also, I am definitely not prepared nor do I feel I would have had the time and energy to prepare myself to have an unassisted childbirth. Maybe next time. Besides, my insurance doesn't even cover homebirths, and yes, this is a big factor in my decision to give birth at a hospital. And last but not least, the boyfriend isn't comfortable with a homebirth. He has been extremely supportive throughout this pregnancy, and I feel like I owe him the comfort of having medical professionals around while I may be writhing in agony while he is helpless to do anything about it.
Hopefully, the scenario won't play out quite like that. While I don't feel qualified to plan for an unassisted homebirth at this point, I *have* done my homework.
- I know my rights, and my birth partner (boyfriend) does too. If we encounter any inappropriate behavior or suggestions by the medical staff, we'll first allow the midwife to mediate, and if we don't feel comfortable with her suggestions, we'll handle it our way. Knowing our rights helps us to feel educated and empowered and in control. Many hospital mishaps (unnecessary interventions, lack of informed consent, miscommunication between staff and laboring mothers) happen because the mother doesn't know what she's entitled to.
- I've participated in childbirth education. Particularly, the Hypnobabies method and the Bradley Method. Both methods are focused on helping the mother to relax and therefore help the birthing process along. Hypnobabies actually pushes the mindset that labor can be entirely enjoyable! We'll see what happens in the LDR, with the lights dimmed and the hypnosis tracks playing. If I'm not pain-free, I have the back-up mindset from Bradley. The Bradley Method also stresses the importance of relaxation, but suggests that laboring mothers embrace whatever sensations come, be it pure pressure or excruciating pain. The Bradley Method teaches you to just let go. Whatever happens, I know that the preparation and education I have going into this is helping me feel much more comfortable about getting very close to one of the biggest events of my life.
- I've rented a birthing pool. Hydrotherapy during labor has many proven benefits, and some mothers have even told me that the birthing tub was as effective as an epidural! I have (possibly unrealistic) high hopes for this tool... but it's one of many.
- I have a friend who is a doula and will ideally attend our birth. I'll admit to feeling much better with plans to have a positive support person whom I have a personal, trusting relationship with. My boyfriend is wonderful support, but he will never know what childbirth will be like, and he will probably be scared out of his mind. I think it's a great idea to have someone around who is interested in your emotional well-being as much if not more than your physical well-being, who is grounded and positive, and who has medical knowledge and can help you through decisions as well.
- I have a birth plan and some brownies. When I give the list of preferences to the nurses in L&D, I'll also be handing them a container of two-bite brownies. Who doesn't like brownies? Hopefully the nurses will be supportive and we'll get along wonderfully.
- I've researched my hospital and really gotten to know my midwives. Touro is said to be the most supportive medical institution in the area of natural childbirth. They call L&D the "Birthing Center". I know from recommendations and testimonials that the nursing staff is familiar with and generally supportive of alternative methods of childcare. Now, what I'm about to say about my midwives is somewhat key for me. I'm not entirely comfortable with either of them. Like I said, they're the only practice in town, and I much prefer the care of a midwife over that of an OB. However, they're not perfect. I feel like there are times they don't listen. Mostly, it's if I have an appointment at the end of the day. They're tired, they've heard it all...and they assume they know much better about what's going on in my body than I do. One is worse than the other. Many people would suggest to switch to a different caregiver, but my opinion is this: no one is perfect. In New Orleans, I'm not likely to find a caregiver I completely trust. And that is probably good, because it stems from my belief that no one can know your body like you do. So I choose to be aware of the problem areas I have with my caregivers, and be prepared to cope (or have someone else cope) with issues if they arise.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Back!
Sorry I've been away for so long!
With baby Gwenna due in less than 4 weeks, and my nurse telling me I'm not going to last that long, nesting has been kicked into high gear. If you haven't been an expectant mother before, there's no way I can explain to you the madness of pages and pages of to-do's and to-buy's. To be honest, going natural means a little bit more work during this time.
Except for cleaning- cleaning is pretty dang easy. I've been using Greenworks and Method for EVERYthing. A bottle of spray by Greenworks can make solutions for mopping, cleans all sorts of surfaces, and is a kickass glass cleaner. Method is a little more expensive, but it's really the only decent dish washing stuff I can find... Seventh Generation was crap for the dishwasher. Of course, I should probably be using my own mixture of baking soda and vinegar. Tsk tsk- I know.
On the other hand, we have to set up lines for hanging diapers to dry, figure out how to fold the million different types of cloth diapers, figure out how to wash them (and rinse them a trillion times), research ingredients in baby toiletries, research extended breastfeeding and the balanced, organic diet to go along with it. It's not easy being green!
Some other exciting things I've been working on during this time:
-Hypnobabies: Self-hypnosis for childbirth (and all the aches and pains leading up to it). Fabulous!
-PR for GGD NOLA: With the new format working out splendidly, it's time to kick it in to high gear in the Big Easy. Meet & greets with some fabulous mommies and businesses are lined up.
-Brushing up on AP: Becoming Attached, Our Babies, Ourselves, and Parenting From the Inside Out are all good books to review before jumping into mommyhood.
-Praying and Meditating Like Crazy: Dear God, PLEASE do not require me to have a C-section or induction! I'm terrified of the possibilities!
-Shopping: I don't want to talk about it.
-Eating: I also don't want to talk about this.
Peace & Love,
Kristen
With baby Gwenna due in less than 4 weeks, and my nurse telling me I'm not going to last that long, nesting has been kicked into high gear. If you haven't been an expectant mother before, there's no way I can explain to you the madness of pages and pages of to-do's and to-buy's. To be honest, going natural means a little bit more work during this time.
Except for cleaning- cleaning is pretty dang easy. I've been using Greenworks and Method for EVERYthing. A bottle of spray by Greenworks can make solutions for mopping, cleans all sorts of surfaces, and is a kickass glass cleaner. Method is a little more expensive, but it's really the only decent dish washing stuff I can find... Seventh Generation was crap for the dishwasher. Of course, I should probably be using my own mixture of baking soda and vinegar. Tsk tsk- I know.
On the other hand, we have to set up lines for hanging diapers to dry, figure out how to fold the million different types of cloth diapers, figure out how to wash them (and rinse them a trillion times), research ingredients in baby toiletries, research extended breastfeeding and the balanced, organic diet to go along with it. It's not easy being green!
Some other exciting things I've been working on during this time:
-Hypnobabies: Self-hypnosis for childbirth (and all the aches and pains leading up to it). Fabulous!
-PR for GGD NOLA: With the new format working out splendidly, it's time to kick it in to high gear in the Big Easy. Meet & greets with some fabulous mommies and businesses are lined up.
-Brushing up on AP: Becoming Attached, Our Babies, Ourselves, and Parenting From the Inside Out are all good books to review before jumping into mommyhood.
-Praying and Meditating Like Crazy: Dear God, PLEASE do not require me to have a C-section or induction! I'm terrified of the possibilities!
-Shopping: I don't want to talk about it.
-Eating: I also don't want to talk about this.
Peace & Love,
Kristen
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Sermon for the day...
Everyone tells you that people come and go. What people don't tell you is that when this happens, it's often in the midst of a cacophony of twisted perception or narrow-mindedness and sometimes pure mindfuck. No one ever tells you that you will sometimes, if not often, be the only upright person in a room full of people you once believed in. No one ever tells you that so often, the people that come and go are left entirely unscathed, while the person who dared to hang on is left without a thought, all alone. No one ever tells you that it's probably not worth the effort to remain sane. It's probably not worth the effort to remain moral. It's probably not worth the effort to defend the truth.
But once you realize these things, you have no choice. You have no choice but to cut out the negative, the twisted, the dishonest and unfaithful, and fight even harder for what is right, and for what you deserve.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about that fairy-tale notion of justice, or about defending yourself. Forget about those, they're only harmful. Best to not believe that anyone is going to "get what they deserve" or that you should defend yourself to the people who seek to destroy you. Wastes. Better to work harder for what you want, whether you're getting what you deserve or not; and instead of trying to prove your enemies wrong, prove yourself right. Success is just as much about letting go as it is about holding on.
And nothing has failed until you let yourself believe it has.
But once you realize these things, you have no choice. You have no choice but to cut out the negative, the twisted, the dishonest and unfaithful, and fight even harder for what is right, and for what you deserve.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about that fairy-tale notion of justice, or about defending yourself. Forget about those, they're only harmful. Best to not believe that anyone is going to "get what they deserve" or that you should defend yourself to the people who seek to destroy you. Wastes. Better to work harder for what you want, whether you're getting what you deserve or not; and instead of trying to prove your enemies wrong, prove yourself right. Success is just as much about letting go as it is about holding on.
And nothing has failed until you let yourself believe it has.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Surprise!
Last week, after my 20-week checkup with the midwives, Zack and his mom and I went to have the gender scan ultrasound- which is supposed to be the last one of my pregnancy (midwives try to keep that kind of technology limited, considering we don't know the full effect of it on the fetus). The tech found out the gender but didn't tell us- she wrote it on a piece of paper and folded it up times a bajillion and put it in an envelope. Zack's mom took that envelope to a bakery and instructed them to fill it blue if it said boy, pink if it said girl. On Sunday we gathered at MIL's house with a few close friends and cut the cake...
Wow, I was shocked! I've been carrying everything in the front, the baby had been so active, and big, and I just *knew* it was a boy! When Zack and I started a registry, we even picked out a couple of blue things because I was so sure. Baby girl's name is Gwenna Michele. I felt a little disappointed at first, but I think that was only because I was disappointed in myself for not knowing- for mis-labeling my little girl and not knowing her, and having to do the bonding thing pretty much all over again. Instead of imagining little footballs and sailboats, I had to start imagining butterflies and ballet slippers.
Now we're all very excited, and just can't wait to welcome our baby girl into the world!
Wow, I was shocked! I've been carrying everything in the front, the baby had been so active, and big, and I just *knew* it was a boy! When Zack and I started a registry, we even picked out a couple of blue things because I was so sure. Baby girl's name is Gwenna Michele. I felt a little disappointed at first, but I think that was only because I was disappointed in myself for not knowing- for mis-labeling my little girl and not knowing her, and having to do the bonding thing pretty much all over again. Instead of imagining little footballs and sailboats, I had to start imagining butterflies and ballet slippers.
Now we're all very excited, and just can't wait to welcome our baby girl into the world!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Honeymoon Trimester
It took a while, but I've found myself totally comfortable several times in the past week. I'm in week 19, so it took me nearly a month to feel the relief most people feel in the beginning of their second trimester, but it doesn't really matter to me anymore because I get to feel the baby move ALL the time now.
I think I may have gained 10 pounds in the past month, but I'm not going to get too down about that because with the way I've been drinking water, probably half of that is fluids, and I lost 20 pounds in the first trimester anyway. Still pretty scared of the weigh-in next week... yikes!
More in the way of pregnancy development: very relaxed attitude. Even something that would normally send me up the wall only elicited one rude comment from my angry mouth, which then twisted into a grimace and then gasped and then bawled because I felt so bad and so sorry for that comment.
I still get grumpy sometimes, but it's not bad, and I definitely don't feel like dying. I'm happy! Yeah, you read right :)
I think I may have gained 10 pounds in the past month, but I'm not going to get too down about that because with the way I've been drinking water, probably half of that is fluids, and I lost 20 pounds in the first trimester anyway. Still pretty scared of the weigh-in next week... yikes!
More in the way of pregnancy development: very relaxed attitude. Even something that would normally send me up the wall only elicited one rude comment from my angry mouth, which then twisted into a grimace and then gasped and then bawled because I felt so bad and so sorry for that comment.
I still get grumpy sometimes, but it's not bad, and I definitely don't feel like dying. I'm happy! Yeah, you read right :)
Thursday, April 1, 2010
FOOD!
Okay, okay, I probably have to excuse and explain my absence from here for so long: HYPEREMESIS GRAVIDARUM, kidney stone in each side, and gallbladder polyp. Good enough explanation? 'Kay, moving on.
I've been feelings so much better (I'm about 18 weeks now) and often I'm actually hungry. I thought I'd share a few of my favorites here:
CAPRESE SALAD
Sliced tomatoes (my favorite is the kind off the vine)
Fresh mozzarella
Basil leaves
Olive oil
Salt (optional)
Now throw it all together. Seriously, knock yourself out!
EGG SANDWICH
Two slices of WHOLE WHEAT (respect your nutrition, preggos... so you can binge on chocolate ice cream when a real craving hits) bread
One egg, fried (I like mine over-hard)
A little bit of butter or olive oil on the toast & to cook with
Come on. You know what to do.
BERRY SMOOTHIE
Frozen berries (I use raspberries, blackberries, blueberries)
No-sugar-added applesauce
Strawberry yogurt
Lemonade
I blend the berries first, adding some lemonade to keep it all moving. Then the applesauce and yogurt. Seriously ridiculously delicious!
Okay, um... now I'm going to go stuff my face.
I've been feelings so much better (I'm about 18 weeks now) and often I'm actually hungry. I thought I'd share a few of my favorites here:
CAPRESE SALAD
Sliced tomatoes (my favorite is the kind off the vine)
Fresh mozzarella
Basil leaves
Olive oil
Salt (optional)
Now throw it all together. Seriously, knock yourself out!
EGG SANDWICH
Two slices of WHOLE WHEAT (respect your nutrition, preggos... so you can binge on chocolate ice cream when a real craving hits) bread
One egg, fried (I like mine over-hard)
A little bit of butter or olive oil on the toast & to cook with
Come on. You know what to do.
BERRY SMOOTHIE
Frozen berries (I use raspberries, blackberries, blueberries)
No-sugar-added applesauce
Strawberry yogurt
Lemonade
I blend the berries first, adding some lemonade to keep it all moving. Then the applesauce and yogurt. Seriously ridiculously delicious!
Okay, um... now I'm going to go stuff my face.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Ohai, blog!
I am not even going to apologize for being away. I've been dealing with severe nausea and vomiting, pinched nerves in my back, a kidney stone not only in my left ureter but one also in my right kidney, and some sort of polyp in my gallbladder.
Sometimes the pain is pretty bad, but the worst part of the constant misery isn't the pain or vomiting itself, it's the fact that no one wants to tell me when it'll be better. The thought of going 6 more months with this and then labor and delivery has literally had me thinking of ways I'd rather die, and much sooner than 6 months from now.
My friends remind me that I've wanted this. And this is true- I wanted this when I had a boyfriend I'd been with for years and was very comfortable financially and the obvious next step was marriage and kids, so when I found out I was pregnant with his kid (for whom we'd already picked out a name), I was happy. But he wasn't. It was a very hard time and I lost the baby. So my friends being sweet to me and being happy for me is touching; they don't want me to go through that heartache again. But I still feel bitter. Why did this have to happen now, when I wasn't ready, and now I have all of these health problems at 22 little years old?
I keep trying to bond with the idea of our baby, and try to be happy to know we have a little miracle.
This song reminds me of the whole ordeal:
"Closed off from love, I didn't need the pain
Once or twice was enough and it was all in vain
Time starts to pass before you know it you're frozen
But something happened for the very first time with you
My heart melted to the ground, found something true
And everyone's looking 'round, thinking I'm going crazy
But I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open
And I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding, I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open
Trying hard not to hear but they talk so loud
Their piercing sounds fill my ears try to fill me with doubt
Yet I know that the goal is to keep me from falling
But nothing's greater than the rush
That comes with your embrace
And in this world of loneliness I see your face
Yet everyone around me thinks that I'm going crazy
Maybe, maybe
But I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open
And I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding, I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open
And it's draining all of me
Oh, they find it hard to believe
I'll be wearing these scars for everyone to see
I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open
And I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding, I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open
And I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding, I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open
And I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love"
Sometimes the pain is pretty bad, but the worst part of the constant misery isn't the pain or vomiting itself, it's the fact that no one wants to tell me when it'll be better. The thought of going 6 more months with this and then labor and delivery has literally had me thinking of ways I'd rather die, and much sooner than 6 months from now.
My friends remind me that I've wanted this. And this is true- I wanted this when I had a boyfriend I'd been with for years and was very comfortable financially and the obvious next step was marriage and kids, so when I found out I was pregnant with his kid (for whom we'd already picked out a name), I was happy. But he wasn't. It was a very hard time and I lost the baby. So my friends being sweet to me and being happy for me is touching; they don't want me to go through that heartache again. But I still feel bitter. Why did this have to happen now, when I wasn't ready, and now I have all of these health problems at 22 little years old?
I keep trying to bond with the idea of our baby, and try to be happy to know we have a little miracle.
This song reminds me of the whole ordeal:
"Closed off from love, I didn't need the pain
Once or twice was enough and it was all in vain
Time starts to pass before you know it you're frozen
But something happened for the very first time with you
My heart melted to the ground, found something true
And everyone's looking 'round, thinking I'm going crazy
But I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open
And I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding, I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open
Trying hard not to hear but they talk so loud
Their piercing sounds fill my ears try to fill me with doubt
Yet I know that the goal is to keep me from falling
But nothing's greater than the rush
That comes with your embrace
And in this world of loneliness I see your face
Yet everyone around me thinks that I'm going crazy
Maybe, maybe
But I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open
And I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding, I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open
And it's draining all of me
Oh, they find it hard to believe
I'll be wearing these scars for everyone to see
I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open
And I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding, I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open
And I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding, I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open
And I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love"
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Update!
There are apparently only 2 midwives in all of New Orleans. We had our "initial visit" today and I brought up the wine thing (a couple of posts back, I linked an article on light drinking during pregnancy which supports the theory t's FINE) and unfortunately my midwife believes it to be too risky. While she may believe that, I know that my poor stomach has had my nose divert me from EVERYTHING except a glass of wine (which I did not drink- I'll be waiting until I'm out of my first trimester). I trust my body over medical advice, once more.
But the midwives seem alright, otherwise. I'm sure I could find some crunchier help in California, but you do what you can with what you've got.
Oh, and I got an ultrasound done Monday, and Little One's measuring 5 days older than it should be based on conception. Please God do not make me deliver a 12 pound baby.
I don't feel very funny tonight. I feel sad and angry and a little bit ravenous. I want a chopped salad from my favorite restaurant in LA, and I'm going to cry because I can't have it. I want to watch the sun set on the beach or behind the mountains. I want to go on a hike through the woods and go to the observatory and the LA zoo and Malibu and... yeah... I just want to cry.
But the midwives seem alright, otherwise. I'm sure I could find some crunchier help in California, but you do what you can with what you've got.
Oh, and I got an ultrasound done Monday, and Little One's measuring 5 days older than it should be based on conception. Please God do not make me deliver a 12 pound baby.
I don't feel very funny tonight. I feel sad and angry and a little bit ravenous. I want a chopped salad from my favorite restaurant in LA, and I'm going to cry because I can't have it. I want to watch the sun set on the beach or behind the mountains. I want to go on a hike through the woods and go to the observatory and the LA zoo and Malibu and... yeah... I just want to cry.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Fun sucker.
That's what I've been today, just a happiness-vacuum. Everything is so irritating!
I ordered a sandwich from Isabella's, and while the description said "pesto sauce" was on it, they put a pesto MAYO sauce, which made me want to hurl just smelling it. $8 for something I had to throw away! I called them and told them about it and then filed a report with the BBB. Mayo has eggs, and that can do some nasty things for people who are allergic... better me bitching now than someone suing them for not disclosing the proper information.
I know that was probably a lot for me to do just because of a sandwich, but damn it I was enraged.
And poor Zack... he wants to talk to me, asks me how I'm feeling, when I work, how work was... and I glare at him because it's the 2nd or 3rd time I'm having to tell him I DON'T WANT TO TALK when I'm about to throw up!
I feel like all my frustration from not being able to keep stuff down and just being plain miserable all the time is getting taken out on everyone else.
Please, 1st trimester, be over soon. I mean sooner than my 4 calculated weeks.
I ordered a sandwich from Isabella's, and while the description said "pesto sauce" was on it, they put a pesto MAYO sauce, which made me want to hurl just smelling it. $8 for something I had to throw away! I called them and told them about it and then filed a report with the BBB. Mayo has eggs, and that can do some nasty things for people who are allergic... better me bitching now than someone suing them for not disclosing the proper information.
I know that was probably a lot for me to do just because of a sandwich, but damn it I was enraged.
And poor Zack... he wants to talk to me, asks me how I'm feeling, when I work, how work was... and I glare at him because it's the 2nd or 3rd time I'm having to tell him I DON'T WANT TO TALK when I'm about to throw up!
I feel like all my frustration from not being able to keep stuff down and just being plain miserable all the time is getting taken out on everyone else.
Please, 1st trimester, be over soon. I mean sooner than my 4 calculated weeks.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
On Natural Response
So I was thinking about this morning sickness thing.
Originally, I was on board with the doctors, and KNEW I had to take in 2300 calories a day to reach my weight gain goal for this trimester. After all, ketones, released when your body burns fat, can brain damage the developing baby! Then I got really vomit-y and gave up. I am now relegated to eating a bowl of plain cooked pasta with salt.. per day. And I'm lucky if I keep down my whole 20 oz. Dasani. And I don't care. I like to think that my body, with its countless years of evolution all written down in every strand of DNA, knows more about making a baby than some 20-something man with a general medical degree.
Over half a decade ago, babies were taken immediately from their birthing mothers and put into incubators and left there, alone, for lengthy amounts of time. Doctors meant to protect newborns from the newly-discovered microorganisms in the world... they meant well. However, the catastrophe that ensued speaks volumes about medicine interfering with natural processes like childbirth.
Many newborns got sick, lethargic, and even deathly ill. Some babies literally died from loneliness. From this debacle came the studies that Attachment Parenting would bloom from, and even today, psychoanalysts are working miracles with Attachment Theory.
But doctors, haven't you learned your lesson?! I know you want to fuss at me for losing weight while my baby is wanting to pack on tons of fluid and such, but have you been pregnant? My body quite obviously does not want to gain fat right now. And I think it may know what it's doing. After all, the world is filled with toxins (don't I know it- I wrote a 6-page outline on toxin awareness for the Green & Granola business plan) and right now my baby is at its most vulnerable. I'm sure it doesn't need high-fructose corn syrup or bleached wheat or preservatives. Unfortunately, they're in every damn thing and my body knows it! So slow your roll, doc. I'm going to trust my body over you.
While we're at this, I'm going to say a bit about drinking during pregnancy. I got to wondering about why my friend's glass of Chardonnay smelled so blissfully amazing while every other smell makes me want to barf, and did some Googling...
Actually, I'm not going to say anything; I'm going to link you this article: Lies That Women Are Told.
You can bet that as soon as I make my 2nd trimester I am RUNNING to Whole Foods for some Chardonnay!
Originally, I was on board with the doctors, and KNEW I had to take in 2300 calories a day to reach my weight gain goal for this trimester. After all, ketones, released when your body burns fat, can brain damage the developing baby! Then I got really vomit-y and gave up. I am now relegated to eating a bowl of plain cooked pasta with salt.. per day. And I'm lucky if I keep down my whole 20 oz. Dasani. And I don't care. I like to think that my body, with its countless years of evolution all written down in every strand of DNA, knows more about making a baby than some 20-something man with a general medical degree.
Over half a decade ago, babies were taken immediately from their birthing mothers and put into incubators and left there, alone, for lengthy amounts of time. Doctors meant to protect newborns from the newly-discovered microorganisms in the world... they meant well. However, the catastrophe that ensued speaks volumes about medicine interfering with natural processes like childbirth.
Many newborns got sick, lethargic, and even deathly ill. Some babies literally died from loneliness. From this debacle came the studies that Attachment Parenting would bloom from, and even today, psychoanalysts are working miracles with Attachment Theory.
But doctors, haven't you learned your lesson?! I know you want to fuss at me for losing weight while my baby is wanting to pack on tons of fluid and such, but have you been pregnant? My body quite obviously does not want to gain fat right now. And I think it may know what it's doing. After all, the world is filled with toxins (don't I know it- I wrote a 6-page outline on toxin awareness for the Green & Granola business plan) and right now my baby is at its most vulnerable. I'm sure it doesn't need high-fructose corn syrup or bleached wheat or preservatives. Unfortunately, they're in every damn thing and my body knows it! So slow your roll, doc. I'm going to trust my body over you.
While we're at this, I'm going to say a bit about drinking during pregnancy. I got to wondering about why my friend's glass of Chardonnay smelled so blissfully amazing while every other smell makes me want to barf, and did some Googling...
Actually, I'm not going to say anything; I'm going to link you this article: Lies That Women Are Told.
You can bet that as soon as I make my 2nd trimester I am RUNNING to Whole Foods for some Chardonnay!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Cue the Beck Music
How to tell if a woman's pregnant: she gets back from puking and has a smile on her face.
I've lost over 10 pounds since I found out a couple of weeks ago about my pregnancy. Today was the first day I actually lost my lunch. Er, breakfast. Now, I'm a tough cookie. I walk into an ER with a 7.5 mm kidney stone and turn down pain meds. But this? This, everything-you-managed-to-get-down-sitting-on-a-geyser-in-your-throat feeling, it's making me a sissy. The problem is not so much throwing up as it is being nauseated. Throwing up = not a big deal, whereas constantly being on the brink = hell for everyone around me to pay. I hear about Phenergan and Zofran and my mouth water (nevermind that it's a fountain all the time in any case). I seriously, seriously considered begging my doctor for a script. BUT I remembered my crunchy roots just in time to run to the bathroom and double over. Good deal, huh?
There are some old herbal-ish remedies for morning sickness. I've tried a lot of them. Sucked on enough lemons to give myself mouth sores, tried the saltine-every-hour thing, spicy foods, chocolate, bananas, peppermint... and my advice? Get used to the queasies. There are these things called Preggie Pops, however, that do work more than the above mentioned remedies (in my opinion). They're made with natural sugar alternatives, so there's not as much tummy-upsetting sweetness as regular candy, and they're sour or minty which helps tummy out.
Speaking of Preggie Pops, I had to go to Motherhood Maternity to buy them. The cute little trick with Motherhood Maternity is that you walk in the store and the attendant says "Welcome to Motherhood!" And while my first reaction was to snip something about a good 7 months left until then, I smiled at her and reflected on the marketing sense of that greeting. Pregnant women spend at least the first trimester incessantly worrying about absolutely everything pregnancy-related, and a lot of us can't even bond with the idea that we're going to be mothers during this time. To hear someone say "Welcome to motherhood" probably makes the idea of parenting just that much more real, if only for a minute, and could lead to some happy spending. It worked on me. I bought a maternity top and a sundress. Don't judge me, it was clearance!
I do understand, though, if you want to judge me for wearing the dress right now.
I've lost over 10 pounds since I found out a couple of weeks ago about my pregnancy. Today was the first day I actually lost my lunch. Er, breakfast. Now, I'm a tough cookie. I walk into an ER with a 7.5 mm kidney stone and turn down pain meds. But this? This, everything-you-managed-to-get-down-sitting-on-a-geyser-in-your-throat feeling, it's making me a sissy. The problem is not so much throwing up as it is being nauseated. Throwing up = not a big deal, whereas constantly being on the brink = hell for everyone around me to pay. I hear about Phenergan and Zofran and my mouth water (nevermind that it's a fountain all the time in any case). I seriously, seriously considered begging my doctor for a script. BUT I remembered my crunchy roots just in time to run to the bathroom and double over. Good deal, huh?
There are some old herbal-ish remedies for morning sickness. I've tried a lot of them. Sucked on enough lemons to give myself mouth sores, tried the saltine-every-hour thing, spicy foods, chocolate, bananas, peppermint... and my advice? Get used to the queasies. There are these things called Preggie Pops, however, that do work more than the above mentioned remedies (in my opinion). They're made with natural sugar alternatives, so there's not as much tummy-upsetting sweetness as regular candy, and they're sour or minty which helps tummy out.
Speaking of Preggie Pops, I had to go to Motherhood Maternity to buy them. The cute little trick with Motherhood Maternity is that you walk in the store and the attendant says "Welcome to Motherhood!" And while my first reaction was to snip something about a good 7 months left until then, I smiled at her and reflected on the marketing sense of that greeting. Pregnant women spend at least the first trimester incessantly worrying about absolutely everything pregnancy-related, and a lot of us can't even bond with the idea that we're going to be mothers during this time. To hear someone say "Welcome to motherhood" probably makes the idea of parenting just that much more real, if only for a minute, and could lead to some happy spending. It worked on me. I bought a maternity top and a sundress. Don't judge me, it was clearance!
I do understand, though, if you want to judge me for wearing the dress right now.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Old Wives
We've all heard the myths.
If you're carrying low, it's a boy; high, it's a girl. If you crave salty or sour, it's a boy; chocolate means a girl. No morning sickness, it's a boy... and so on. So what happens if you're craving a cheesy bean and rice burrito with a metric ton of mild sauce one day, and Hershey's the next? Watermelon and raspberries make you giddy one day, and miserable the next?
Zack says twins.
I say, shut your @$@#$* mouth. Please. And if you don't mind, grab me a popsicle? Orange.
I'm not really this mean and monstrous. This is how it goes down in my head, though. Like the following situation:
Reality
Dr. Buttface: What can I do for you today?
Me: Not sure, doc, I have a rather large kidney stone, but I am also pregnant.
Dr. Buttface: Looks at me in quite the condescending manner, What makes you think you're pregnant?
Me: About a million labs. Would you like to see my paperwork?
Dr. Buttface: Takes my pregnancy portfolio and proceeds to look over every sheet of paper, including my insurance information, as if he will find something to prove me wrong. I'm referring you. This is more than I want to deal with here.
What Went Down In My Head
Dr. Buttface: What can I do for you today?
Me: Probably nothing. I am knocked up.
Dr. Buttface: What makes you think you're pregnant?
Me: I'm considering puking in your face right now, and at least 10 HPT's and two sets of Beta HCG levels tell me it's because there's something growing inside of me. Did they skip that chapter in your community college med school?
Dr. Buttface: I think that's out of line, Miss-
Me: Vomits in his face
I guess I need to go lay down before my hormones crawl out of my blood and take on a form of their own like that creepy black stuff in that terrible Spiderman movie.
If you're carrying low, it's a boy; high, it's a girl. If you crave salty or sour, it's a boy; chocolate means a girl. No morning sickness, it's a boy... and so on. So what happens if you're craving a cheesy bean and rice burrito with a metric ton of mild sauce one day, and Hershey's the next? Watermelon and raspberries make you giddy one day, and miserable the next?
Zack says twins.
I say, shut your @$@#$* mouth. Please. And if you don't mind, grab me a popsicle? Orange.
I'm not really this mean and monstrous. This is how it goes down in my head, though. Like the following situation:
Reality
Dr. Buttface: What can I do for you today?
Me: Not sure, doc, I have a rather large kidney stone, but I am also pregnant.
Dr. Buttface: Looks at me in quite the condescending manner, What makes you think you're pregnant?
Me: About a million labs. Would you like to see my paperwork?
Dr. Buttface: Takes my pregnancy portfolio and proceeds to look over every sheet of paper, including my insurance information, as if he will find something to prove me wrong. I'm referring you. This is more than I want to deal with here.
What Went Down In My Head
Dr. Buttface: What can I do for you today?
Me: Probably nothing. I am knocked up.
Dr. Buttface: What makes you think you're pregnant?
Me: I'm considering puking in your face right now, and at least 10 HPT's and two sets of Beta HCG levels tell me it's because there's something growing inside of me. Did they skip that chapter in your community college med school?
Dr. Buttface: I think that's out of line, Miss-
Me: Vomits in his face
I guess I need to go lay down before my hormones crawl out of my blood and take on a form of their own like that creepy black stuff in that terrible Spiderman movie.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Karma.
So I've been in the child care industry for years now, and I've done enough research to make me never want to pick up a baby book again. At this point in pregnancy, I figure most women are searching through Barnes and Noble with their decaf lattes for every modern pregnancy book available. Me? Meh. I know about natural childbirth and organic living and attachment parenting and breastfeeding and positive discipline and babywearing and elimination communication and all that other good stuff. At this point in pregnancy, rather than poring over baby books, I am usually bent over the toilet on the verge of losing whatever I managed to get down (but interestingly enough never actually losing it) and crying because this is just the beginning. And at the end, all my karmic retribution for telling natural moms-to-be about the benefits of a natural childbirth.
Kill me now.
I used to think that I would be so excited to be pregnant that the pain would be nothing compared to the pure bliss I'd feel. I had no idea what constant nausea would do to my morale.
I know I sound bitter, but I'm really excited. I'm coming from LA, where there are so many places to go and things to do with a little one, and even when you're pregnant. I know that kind of community exists. I just have to dig for it in New Orleans, maybe. Or maybe I'll just go back to LA...
"Honey, I'm flying back to LA."
Zack suppresses the urge to call 911 for a straitjacket, and speaks very slowly. "Um... why?"
"I need to be in Malibu right now, with a quart of cherry soy ice cream."
At this point I would completely forget about the fact that I haven't booked a ticket, and get in the car and drive to the airport, while Zack sits at home frozen in fear of what I might do to him if he raises any objection.
Somebody ship me some Pinkberry, stat! Will satisfying cravings give me my sanity back? Probably not... but they will hopefully relieve my obsession for ice cream alternatives.
Kill me now.
I used to think that I would be so excited to be pregnant that the pain would be nothing compared to the pure bliss I'd feel. I had no idea what constant nausea would do to my morale.
I know I sound bitter, but I'm really excited. I'm coming from LA, where there are so many places to go and things to do with a little one, and even when you're pregnant. I know that kind of community exists. I just have to dig for it in New Orleans, maybe. Or maybe I'll just go back to LA...
"Honey, I'm flying back to LA."
Zack suppresses the urge to call 911 for a straitjacket, and speaks very slowly. "Um... why?"
"I need to be in Malibu right now, with a quart of cherry soy ice cream."
At this point I would completely forget about the fact that I haven't booked a ticket, and get in the car and drive to the airport, while Zack sits at home frozen in fear of what I might do to him if he raises any objection.
Somebody ship me some Pinkberry, stat! Will satisfying cravings give me my sanity back? Probably not... but they will hopefully relieve my obsession for ice cream alternatives.
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